“Wish I could get my teeth in one of Mrs Sew-and-Sew’s ragamuffins,” murmured Grampa, trudging gloomily over the snow.
“Bill’s found something,” called Urtha, who was dancing a few steps ahead. Just then down came the weather cock to announce that he had discovered the dragon’s cave. It was tunneled out of a huge, snowy hill and at one end burned a roaring fire. Dragons, as you know, drink flame as other creatures drink water and Enorma always kept a huge pile of trees burning in her cavern.
“Bill, you’re a real explorer!” cried Grampa and, taking off one of his medals, he hung it ’round the weather cock’s neck. Stacked against the walls of the cave were great piles of frozen meat, for Enorma—in spite of her false teeth—had been a mighty huntress. In a trice Grampa had a bear steak sputtering on the fire on pointed sticks and nothing could have been cozier than their breakfast.
“I told you our troubles were over,” beamed the old soldier, handing Tatters a portion of the steak on a tin army plate. “All we have to do now is to claim the reward, find the King’s head and journey back to Ragbad.” Grampa grinned with satisfaction.
“But how can we do that?” asked Tatters dubiously. “There’s the ocean and the sandy desert between.”
“Don’t worry,” advised Grampa, settling comfortably before the fire. “This old Chin Chilly will be so delighted to have the dragon out of the way that he’ll probably send us home in a golden ship with our pockets full of diamonds. How will you like that, Loveliness?” Urtha was playing hide and seek with Bill but at Grampa’s words she came over to the fire.
“I’ll like it if Tatters does,” said the little flower fairy, smiling shyly at the Prince of Ragbad.
“Well, I’ll like it,” admitted Tatters, “especially with you along, for we can dance on the deck and play scrum. Why, I’ve never had time to teach you yet. Grampa, won’t you lend us your leg?”
“Not now,” objected the old soldier. “Duty before pleasure, my children. Remember that we have not found this Chin Chilly, nor claimed the reward. As we’re warmed up and fed we’d better start hunting again.”
“Here I go by the name of Bill,” crowed the weather cock, flinging out of the cavern. Grampa stowed some of the dried bear meat in his knapsack and then, forming his little company in line, gave the order to march away.